


Out here looking for a snack

by Sylvalum



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Untitled Goose Game (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff and Crack, Just A Little Bit Of A Bastard, M/M, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-31 16:20:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21148622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylvalum/pseuds/Sylvalum
Summary: “You thought I was-?” Aziraphale was grinning now. “So you were talking to it because-”“Yes, yes,” said Crowley quickly, and glanced at the goose again- it was steadily inching closer to Aziraphale. “You see, some of its behaviour reminded me just a bit…”“Of me?” Aziraphale asked, delighted, and in the very next second the goose lunged forward and nabbed the pastry bag from his hand. “Hey!”





	Out here looking for a snack

There was something distinctly familiar about that one goose clattering around in St. James’s park.

At first Crowley had not cared, had resolved to pay it no mind, but as he had nothing else to do as he waited for Aziraphale, he had found himself starting to observe the goose. And the goose reminded him strongly of something, or perhaps someone. He couldn’t put a finger on it at first - was it the colour, perhaps, so perfectly white? - or how it seemed strangely intelligent, staring weirdly at Crowley, singling him out, snapping only at the littering tourists and deftly stealing a sandwich from a man who made a homophobic comment?

It took him a frankly embarrassing amount of time to realise what was really going on, that is to say.

“Oh angel,” he groaned at himself, when he finally did understand, and then he had to chase down the goose through the park - the goose, _ Aziraphale _ \- to be able to get a moment to talk to him, alone and away from the groups of tourists currently swarming around.

“Aziraphale, what have you done to yourself?” Crowley crouched down a bit, after finally getting the goose to stop, wanting to get a better look at Aziraphale’s goosey face, asking worriedly, “Did you get yourself discorporated somehow? Or did you  _ choose _ to do this?”

Aziraphale stared back at him and clappered a little with his beak.

“Can’t you speak?” Crowley stared at Aziraphale, and all two feathery feet of him stared back at Crowley in what was certainly a very goose-like way. “Are you  _ stuck  _ like this? Can’t you miracle forth some solution, or… or…”

Crowley trailed off. Surely Aziraphale wouldn’t be staying in this form, right? Right?

_ Then _ Aziraphale’s lovely and very, very human voice said, “Crowley dear, what on Earth are you doing?” from  _ behind _ him, and Crowley went very still.

“Ah,” he said, trying to neither sound nor look fatally mortified. “I was simply... feeding the birds, and waiting for you to arrive. You see.” Hardly a lie, at all! He quickly stood up again and busied himself with brushing off his pants and jacket, very important, of course, and only stared a little at Aziraphale’s normal, nice, familiar and  _ human _ appearance, with his nice old coat and slightly curly hair and a paper bag from one of their favourite bakeries in hand. Good old Aziraphale, yes.

Aziraphale said, then, “Were you  _ talking _ to the goose?”

“And what if I was? Geese are little minions of Hell, didn’t you know?”

“You  _ were _ talking to the goose,” Aziraphale said, and started to smile, but in that slightly underhanded, slightly too darkly gleeful way that Crowley ordinarily adored, but not in this specific moment.

“Maybe,” Crowley defended himself, and looked away from Aziraphale, which meant that unfortunately his eyes next fell upon the goose. The utterly normal, boring goose, who definitely  _ wasn’t _ Aziraphale, why would Crowley ever have thought that?

The goose didn’t say anything of course, simply glared up at the two of them with some sort of evil intelligence in its eyes, tilting its head alarmingly to one side.

“Why would you do that?” Aziraphale asked next, sounding honestly curious. “I mean, I would’ve tried talking to the pigeons first. I’m sure they’d have interesting stories to tell…”

Crowley stared at the goose, then glanced at Aziraphale, Aziraphale who trailed off into quiet and looked at him gently. And Crowley took a breath of air to steel himself, and said, “I… had a slight misunderstanding. With the goose.”

“With the goose?” Aziraphale echoed.

Crowley mumbled, “I thought it was you.”

“You thought I was-?” Aziraphale was grinning now. “So you were talking to it because-”

“Yes, yes,” said Crowley quickly, and glanced at the goose again- it was steadily inching closer to Aziraphale. “You see, some of its behaviour reminded me just a bit…”

“Of me?” Aziraphale asked, delighted, and in the very next second the goose lunged forward and nabbed the pastry bag from his hand. “Hey!”

“No!” said Crowley, but didn’t even to think to react before the goose started absolutely sprinting away towards the bushes. “Our pastries!”

“Ah, well,” said Aziraphale, a bit mournfully. “A goose has to eat too, I suppose.”

“I saw it eat a whole bacon sandwich less than ten minutes ago!” Crowley exclaimed.

Aziraphale frowned. “Still, it’s too late to catch it now.”

It really was. The goose had disappeared into the bushes, pastry bag and all, and neither of them felt very keen to go after it, anymore. Cheers to the goose for a successful theft, Crowley supposed. Then he said as much to Aziraphale.

“And you said that the goose reminded you of  _ me?” _ he asked.

“Well. It does seem to like pastries,” Crowley said. “And angel, haven’t I always said you’re just a little bit of a bastard?”

“I’m a gentleman,” Aziraphale said haughtily.

“That too. But I like both.” Then Crowley had to manually stop himself from blushing, because he wasn’t that easily flustered. Never.

“Oh,” said Aziraphale, a bit quietly. When Crowley glanced at him next, Aziraphale was smiling. “I think I ought to tell you, that I love all of you, too, my dear.”

“Oh,” said Crowley, only a little strangled, and after that none of them thought about pastries for a long time, except for the little thieving goose, who was having a whole little pastry feast deep within the bushes and didn’t see the angel and the demon kissing sweetly in the park.


End file.
